


Mourning Glory

by ikuzonos



Series: The Friends We Used to Know [11]
Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Lots of Angst, Multi, NDRV3 Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: Saihara stares into her soft purple eyes, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t know what she wants, or even what he should do. He hesitates a moment, biting the inside of his lip, unsure of himself. The one thing he knows for certain is that he would trust Kaede Akamatsu with his life.Against all odds, everyone begins to recover.[Major Endgame NDRV3 Spoilers]





	

**Author's Note:**

> so uh. if you looked at my profile you may have noticed that this is the second to last update of this fic. that's right, there's just this one and the one after, and then we're done.
> 
> that's a scary thought.

Physically, Iruma recovers amazingly quickly. She’s out of the hospital within eight days, and is completely mobile upon her discharge date, unlike the others who often slept through the days after their release.

The rest of her is another story.

“You,” Iruma drawls, looking Kirumi right in the eye.

“Me?” Kirumi asks nervously.

Iruma nods, “You. You died. I fucking saw you.”

Kirumi shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Yes, but I-”

“You too, Bakamatsu!” Iruma bangs her hand on the table, “How the hell did you live through that?”

Kaede bites her lip, then looks over towards Iruma. She says carefully, “It was all a virtual reality simulation. None of that really happened.”

Saihara looks at her oddly. He and Kaede had been making more of an effort to hang out, especially after Tenko’s rehospitalization, but something about her seems different now, and he wonders what she's thinking.

“But we went into a simulation during the game!” Iruma shouts, “So how the _fuck-”_

“I don't know!” Kaede shouts back, “I don't know anything, okay?!”

Iruma flinches and looks at her hands. Kirumi reaches out to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then thinks better of it and pulls away.

The crayon that Kaede was holding sits in her palm, snapped in half. Saihara glances down at her drawing, and realizes that some of the more intense strokes may not have been as deliberate as he thought.

She shakily places the broken crayon on the table, then pushes out her chair and stands up. To Saihara, she hisses, “I’m going to my room. Don't follow me.”

The three of them sit in awkward silence, Saihara now alone at his table, until Iruma pipes up, “Did Dekachin really kill me?”

Kirumi nods, “Yes, he did. I believe that he regrets it very much.”

“He strangled you with toilet paper,” Saihara adds weakly.

Iruma snorts, “Figures I’d go out like that.” All of a sudden, she looks miserable.

Saihara puts the broken crayon back in the box.

-

Saihara's night is sleepless and uneasy. He tosses and turns for several hours at a time, but he never manages to actually rest.

He’ll even take the dreams, even the nightmares, over this exhaustion. All it does is make him miserable.

At quarter to two in the morning, he kicks off his ripped sheets and sits up. Saihara takes his hat off of the bedpost, and pulls it onto his messy hair. No point in trying to sleep if all his bed is going to do is annoy him.

Saihara leaves his room and descends the metal stairs, his hand loosely gripping the railing. He follows the dark corridors to the barely lit cafeteria, then into the kitchen.

Kirumi stands inside at the sink, and turns to him in surprise when the door swings shut behind him. She holds her hands behind her back, trying to act natural, but she looks stressed.

“Are you washing dishes?” Saihara asks, looking at the plate that Kirumi is attempting to hide.

She sighs, and places the dish back on the counter, “Yes, I am. What are you doing up?”

Saihara blinks, “Toujou-san, it's two in the morning. I could ask you the same question.”

Kirumi steps away from the sink, and walks around the counter in the centre of the room, “I'm just cleaning up. Is everything okay? Do you need something?”

“That's not your job- Toujou-san, are you okay?” Saihara states at her, moving so that he's on the opposite side of the counter as her.

Kirumi twirls a strand of hair around her finger, “Don't worry about me. I’ve been working to help Amami-san during the day, so that leaves me little time to do other things."

Saihara replies, “You didn't answer my question. I asked you if you were okay.”

Kirumi grits her teeth, “Why do you care? You don't need to care about me!”

“Toujou-san?”

She slams her fist down on the wooden cutting board that sits on the counter, “Why do you _care_?! I don't deserve your attention!”

Saihara stares at her, unable to say anything. The bright LED kitchen lights are burning into his skin, and he wants to cry.

Kirumi meets his eyes slowly, “I want to be the Kirumi Toujou from the simulation. I want to be selfless, I want to be a leader… People admired me. I’m _useless_ as I am… I thought if I projected onto her, if I tried to take care of other people, then I could be better than the boring person I really am.”

Saihara places a hand on her closed fist and leans over the counter, “You’re not boring. Toujou-san, you’re wonderful as you are.”

She sighs, “I... hate thinking about the simulation. I never want to think about the terrible things I did at the end, but I want to really be that perfect maid. And I hate it.”

Saihara responds kindly, “I understand. But eventually… you do have to think about it. We all have to face our past, even if it’s a bit ugly.”

Kirumi laughs, tilting her head back. Then, she stares at him with pained eyes, “Saihara-san, you’re such a hypocrite. All you do is ignore the simulation! You refuse to talk about it, and you get physically upset when it’s mentioned.”

“That’s different-”

“How?!” Kirumi asks, “How are you any different than the rest of us?!”

Saihara holds up his hands in defence, “Please, Toujou-san, I just-”

Kirumi cuts him off, “Why do _I_ have to look at what I did if you can just brush it off like it never happened?!”

Saihara flinches. He closes his eyes, clenches his fists, and whispers, “I’m scared. I’m scared of looking at the game and seeing how much better I was.”

She softens, “Yeah… Yeah. That is the problem, isn't it? You like who you were better than who you are. You said it yourself, though. We all have to face our past, even if it's ugly.”

Saihara nods. His eyes flicker open to meet Kirumi’s gaze again, and he feels his eyes start to water. Before he can full blown sob - he's done that too many times in this kitchen already - Saihara wipes his eyes. He waits a moment, then asks, “Hey, Toujou-san? Can I ask why you're so close with Amami-kun? I don't remember you two being friends before.”

Kirumi replies, “He… grew up in my neighbourhood. Sometimes I would see him and we would wave. I feel like I owe him now… I never stopped to talk to him and I should have.”

Saihara says, “I see. In that case… don't lose him again. You deserve a close friendship.”

Kirumi laughs bitterly, “Forgive me, Saihara-san, but I don't even deserve _you._ What makes you think that I would deserve someone as wonderful as him?”

He isn't sure who she's insulting more here: him or herself, but he quietly nods along as Kirumi's laughs turn into sobs.

-

He paces back and forth in front of the mahogany door. Saihara takes care not to step on the motivational doormat - who knew a novelty like that even existed? - that reads ‘Make today ridiculously amazing!’

He bets that it's cursed. Wouldn't surprise him at this point.

Finally, Saihara works up the nerve to knock on the door. Beyond the heavy wood is the psychologist’s personal office, where she conducts private sessions. He doubts that she's awake, though.

To his surprise, the door swings open, and on the other side stands the psychologist, her carrot orange hair sticking up in every direction.

“If it's a bad time-” Saihara starts.

She smiles, “No, no! Sorry, Saihara-kun, I wasn't expecting you so early. Or ever. I thought you didn't have an interest in private counselling?”

He replies, “A friend changed my mind.”

She says, “Well! Good on them, then. Come in, I’ll see what I have available today.”

Saihara steps over the cursed welcome mat and settles himself down in a comfortable looking armchair. The psychologist tosses an Alka-Seltzer tablet into a glass of water, and violently turns the pages of her datebook.

“I'm booked up for most of today…” she says, “However, I could see you now, if that's okay. We can let out before you meet your doctor.”

Saihara blinks, “How did you know I have to see my doctor?”

“Women’s intuition,” she replies, closing the door and sitting down across from him, “Now tell me, what did you come to talk about today?”

Saihara takes a deep breath, “The simulation.”

The psychologist scribbles something down onto her clipboard, “Interesting. In the past, you always went out of your way to avoid bringing up the events of the killing game. I only watched it on television so I don't know what it was like. Would you care to tell me about it?”

Saihara nods, and looks her in the eye as he speaks, “It was _hell.”_

-

Saihara just finishes tucking his sheets back onto his bed when he hears an awkward banging on his door. He stands, curious, then sidles over to the door and pulls it open. Instantly, he regrets it, but the muscles in his arms won’t close the door again.

“Hi. Angie wants to talk to you,” she says, looking up at him.

He hisses, “Go away.”

Angie crosses her arms, “Please, Shuuichi. Angie really needs to do this. You’re the only one who can help her?”

“What do you want?” he asks, glaring at her.

Angie says, “Angie wants to apologize to Tenko, but she needs your help. Tenko won’t want to see Angie unless Angie comes with someone Tenko trusts, and Tenko trusts Shuuichi.”

Saihara replies, “You want to apologize? Do you think you can make everything better by saying sorry?!”

Angie shakes her head, “Of course that can’t make things all better, silly! But it’s a start, and Kami-san says that it’s always best to make the first move yourself!”

Saihara’s first thought is to wonder if Angie really does believe in her Kami-san, or if she's just projecting onto the person from the simulation. He replies, “I don’t owe you anything.”

Angie says, “But… you do. Not _only_ did you scream at Angie in the cafeteria, she also talked to Kaede for you, back when Kaede first woke up.”

“You remember that?”

“Angie never forgets.”

He slams his eyes shut, then says, “Fine. But for Tenko-san’s sake, not yours.”

Angie beams, “Thank you, Shuuichi! Angie really appreciates your help.”

He scowls and pushes past her.

Tenko’s room is about halfway down the hall. Saihara knocks on the door a few times, then waits. She only just got moved back into it the night before, and is likely still settling in.

“C-Come in… it’s unlocked,” Tenko says, her voice wavering just a tad.

He pushes the door open slowly. Tenko is sitting on her bed, looking exhausted and miserable. Her room has been stripped of everything besides the mattress and the quilt, and her window has been barred twice over.

“Hi, Tenko-san,” he says carefully.

She looks up at him and smiles weakly. There’s a few bruises still on her face, but her scar is covered by a high necked nightgown. She waves, but her eyes seem glazed.

Saihara steps up to her and calmly asks, “I’ve brought someone else with me. Is that okay? If not, I can ask them to leave.”

Tenko hunches her shoulders, “I… guess? I’m not really feeling very good, though…”

Saihara turns towards the doorway, and Angie carefully wheels herself in. As soon as Tenko sees her, the black haired girl flinches, then swiftly crawls backwards to the far end of her bed. With her back pressed against the wall and nowhere to hide, Tenko hides her head between her knees.

“Angie’s here to apologize,” the shorter girl says, “Is it okay if she does so?”

Tenko ignores her, and cries out, “How could you bring her here, Saihara-san? I don’t… Tenko can’t…!”

Saihara replies, “She insisted on this. I’m on your side, Tenko-san. If she tries anything, or if you want her to leave, I’ll make _certain_ that she goes.” He finishes this with a pointed glare at Angie.

Tenko sneaks a look at Angie over her knees, “Spit it out. And be quick, Tenko doesn’t want to listen to you for any longer than she has to.”

Angie says, “Angie would like to apologize for being so mean to Tenko. Specifically, she’s very sorry about telling Tenko that she would be better off dead, because that’s not true at all! Tenko is a good person… and she deserves to be happy!”

Tenko bites her lip, then says, “A-Are you finished?”

Angie nods, “Yep! Angie hopes this helps ease Tenko's spirit!”

“Okay…” Tenko says, “You should go, then.”

Angie turns around carefully, then wheels out of the room. As soon as she's gone, Saihara shuts the door, and sits down next to Tenko.

“Are you…?”

Tenko sniffles and wipes her eyes, but tears continue to fall down her face. Saihara gently reaches out and places his arm over her shoulder. She leans against him and cries harder.

-

The news passes through the compound quickly, and Saihara soaks it all up because he’s just as gossip starved as the rest of them. No magazines dated earlier than two years ago are allowed inside the compound, leading everyone to continue rereading the same articles covering the same scandals.

Of course, Korekiyo Shinguuji awakening from an eight and a half month coma isn’t a scandal, but it almost feels like one. Saihara can’t begin to think of him without feeling his skin crawl, much as he hates to admit it. Sure, there’s the possibility that the real Shinguuji is a much better person than his in game persona, but there’s no backing proof.

Still, that singular possibility is what brings Saihara to his hospital room on a late November afternoon, the tiny hope that the person inside is still good.

Shinguuji seems surprised at the sight of him, “S-Saihara-kun? I wasn’t expecting you… or anyone.”

Saihara shrugs, “I thought I should come see you. Are you, er, feeling well?”

“Not in the slightest, but what can I say?” Shinguuji replies, “I… I would like to apologize, though. I feel as if I wronged you before.”

Saihara bites his lip, “Thank you.” He takes a proper look at the man, and tries to ignore the itching in his skin. Shinguuji’s hair has been chopped short, and it lies unevenly on the hospital bed. His face mask is gone as well, and faint stitches sit around his mouth.

“I know that you don’t want to be here,” Shinguuji adds, “You can leave. I won’t feel bad.”

“Sorry,” Saihara says.

He leaves.

Saihara doesn’t get much farther than the next hallway over when he runs into someone else, and stops in his tracks. Tenko stands in the centre of the corridor, her eyes hollow.

“Shinguuji-san,” she murmurs.

“What about him?” Saihara asks, despite knowing exactly what she’s about to say.

Tenko whispers hesitantly, “Did he… murder me?”

Saihara bites his lip, then nods, “He did.”

Tenko shuts her eyes and quivers, “I remember… getting in the cage. And… and the floorboard…”

“That was him too,” Saihara says slowly.

She croaks, “Am I allowed to hate him?”

Saihara looks at her for a long moment. He wants to tell her that it wouldn’t be healthy to continue holding a grudge, that it would only sink her further, but then he thinks about Tsumugi Shirogane, and Saihara’s heart catches in his throat.

“…Yeah. You are."

-

“Got any threes?”

"Go fish.”

Kaito grumbles, but reaches down and picks up a card from the deck. He looks at it carefully, then sticks it into his fan.

Saihara looks down at his own, then asks, “Do you have any… eights?”

“Damn it!” Kaito says, before throwing two at Saihara’s head.

Saihara carefully puts down a stack of eights, then says, “Do you have any tens?”

Kaito replies, “Go fish.”

The game goes on for the next twenty minutes, until Kaito slams his hand on the floor, “Okay, Shuuichi! We know this is not why I told you I wanted to talk!”

Saihara says, “You’re just mad that I’m winning.”

“That too,” Kaito admits, “but I really did want to talk to you. So… can we stop playing?”

Saihara places his cards down next to him on the floor, “Okay, sure. What is it?”

Kaito takes a deep breath, “I guess I… wanted to apologize, cause I feel like I’ve been ignoring you lately. I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to patch things with Harumaki, but it’s not going well.”

Saihara blinks, “Harukawa-san? Did something happen?”

“Nah,” Kaito says, “See, we talked about the game and worked out that we don’t actually have feelings for each other, that it was just brainwashing. But see, I want to still be friends with her, and she’s been avoiding talking to me. ...Sorry. I’m making it about that.”

Saihara begins, “It’s okay, I don’t mind-”

Kaito cuts in, “Listen, Shuuichi. You’re one of the best friends anyone could ever have. I’m lucky to have befriended you… and I don’t want to lose that, okay?”

Saihara smiles, “You won’t lose me, Momota-kun. I’ll always be here for you… no matter what.”

Kaito beams back, then asks, “Got any aces?”

Saihara picks up his deck and throws one over, trying to frown, but only succeeds in laughing.

-

The hatch to the roof is open, so naturally, Saihara ascends the ladder in the supply closet. It’s only late afternoon, so the stars haven’t begun to appear yet, but Saihara figures that the view will still be nice.

When he reaches the rooftop, he’s hit in the face with an overwhelming heat, and a smell that is not the usual dust. Saihara pulls himself out of the hole and turns around, only to see Gonta hunched over an electric griddle, surrounded by pancakes.

“Uh,” Saihara says intelligently.

Gonta grunts, “Long story short, the kitchen was busy, I wanted pancakes, and the utensils are too small for my giant hands.”

Saihara walks over to him, and carefully sits down, “But why the roof?”

Gonta replies, “Figured it would be harder to start a fire up here. I’m not a great cook.”

Saihara says, “I could help, if you wanted. I’m no Harumi Kurihara, but I can flip a pancake.”

“Be my guest,” Gonta says, passing him a spatula.

Saihara spends the next few minutes cooking the rest of the pancake batter that Gonta made. The pancakes seem to cook well, but Saihara can’t be too sure. It’s been a long time since he’s cooked anything more difficult than plain toast, and an especially long time since he’s made pancakes.

When they’re finally all finished, Gonta unplugs the griddle and picks up the plate of pancakes, offering them to Saihara. He awkwardly takes one in his hand, trying to ignore how hot they are, and takes a bite at the same time Gonta does. He chews it for a second, then spits it out violently.

“I think I just ate rubber,” Saihara mumbles, looking at the rest of the pancake in disgust.

Gonta shrugs, and passively takes another bite of his own, “Like I said, I’m not a great cook.”

Saihara turns his head, and looks out into the distance. From the roof, the view expands for miles, until the blurred mountains stop him from looking any farther. The barren desert is almost chilling to look at. There’s no signs of life, sans the occasional cactus.

“I’m scared of the real world,” Saihara says quietly, “We’ve been here for so long… I hardly remember what it’s like.”

Gonta nods, “Sometimes I wish that we didn’t have to go back to it… but I’d rather die than stay here.”

They stay on the roof for a while after that.

-

The courtyard is mostly shadows. As the orange sunset begins fading into darkness, Saihara walks across the stony ground, and looks for a place to sit down.

The rocks that surround the flowerbeds are still warm, and Saihara carefully lowers himself onto one of them. He’s tired, he’s just so tired. When did life get like this? He hasn’t felt so passively suicidal in a long time, but right now, he feels like if he were to be suddenly stabbed, he’d accept it.

“What’s up, motherfucker?”

“Gah!” Saihara leaps to his feet and looks around, to see Iruma sitting on top of a nearby trellis.

She jumps down, and seats herself on the flowerbed that he was sitting on moments before. He carefully returns to the spot, unsure of what to do now.

Iruma says, “I said, ‘what’s up?’ You don’t look very hunkydory, Shyhara."

“Hunkydory?” Saihara repeats, raising an eyebrow.

Iruma replies, “I’m trying out new vocabulary! I… want to sound smarter. I’m not the fucking Super High-School Level Inventor anymore, so if I don’t have _proof_ that I’m a genius, I have to act like one.”

Saihara wants to tell her that outdated slang won’t help her case, but he understands where she’s coming from. So many of his insecurities in the killing game about his detective skill were rooted in his complete and utter lack of self-esteem in the real world.

Iruma adds, “I know that none of you liked me. Or even like me now. I’m the same shitty person I was before… I just don’t have the confidence from the game. I’ve _tried_ to fake it, but…”

Saihara whispers, “Iruma-san…”

“Save it, Shyhara,” she mutters, “I know that you don’t really mean it.”

Saihara goes silent after that, having no idea what to say in response, because Iruma is at least a little bit right. He stays with her as the moon rises over the courtyard, until she gets up and walks away.

-

Shirogane doesn’t show her face at the therapy session. However, Tenko, Amami, and Iruma make their first appearances, all three looking rather worse for wear.

Saihara sits through the first few minutes, mindlessly rubbing his hands over the edge of the table. He doesn’t focus again until the psychologist asks her first question.

“Why don’t we have a little check in? Since we’ve got some new arrivals today, it might be nice to see how we’re all doing,” she says, almost cheerfully, “Who wants to start?”

Everyone avoids meeting her eyes, until Amami pipes up, “Sure, I might as well.”

The psychologist replies, “Wonderful! How would you rate your week, Amami-kun?”

Amami shrugs, “Uh… I guess it’s a five or a six? It hasn’t been abysmal or anything, but I feel like crap all the time, and my memories are still really foggy. I know like, half of the people in here by name, and if I tried to list them off, I’d probably be wrong.”

Kirumi says gently, “You could try. I’m sure you know more than you think.”

Amami smiles, “Thanks… I’m not up to embarrassing myself, though. Let’s see… I’m trying to remember things about the last season. I remember dying, but that’s about it.”

Kaede flinches, and looks down at her hands.

“I don’t know if this counts, but,” Amami continues, “every time I close my eyes, I see the people from the past games dying, and I can’t do anything to stop it. Sorry, that’s probably not what any of you wanted to hear.”

The psychologist blinks a few times, looking uncomfortable. She clears her throat, then says, “Oh! Ah, well, it will get better with time. Who wants to go next?”

Nobody moves a muscle.

“Come on, anyone?” she asks. Everyone avoids making eye contact with her, and she sighs, “Fine. In that case, I’ve got some worksheets for you all. They’re about dealing with anxiety!”

She passes a stack of papers down each side of the table, and Saihara takes one, then passes them on. He examines the sheet, and feels himself deflate a little bit. Right down to the smiling cartoon felt markers, it’s the exact same worksheet he’d received at age fifteen, when he attended his first group therapy session.

Saihara’s fingers tighten around the paper. He doesn’t like thinking about that hospital.

The psychologist says, “We’ll go over this paper together, and use the strategies described to help you deal with your anxious feelings. I understand that most of you are nervous about returning to your families.”

He bites down on his lip. All he wants to do is get out of this room.

-

“Spades,” Hoshi says, placing an eight on the deck.

Kaito curses under his breath, then picks up another card. Saihara looks at his own hand carefully. He has a few spades, but not many, and the others are losing cards at a very quick rate. He wonders if he can maybe change the suit to diamonds, and buy him a few more rounds, when Amami smacks down a card onto the pile.

“I win,” he says.

Outrage ensues. Saihara drops his cards at the same time that Maki swears violently. Iruma shouts, “I was going to win on my turn!” while Kaede says, “Good game, everyone!” and is drowned out by Kaito slamming his fists against the table.

The ruckus continues for a bit longer as Amami smiles, when Kiibo’s tablet flickers on at the end of the table. Nine heads turn at almost the same time, as Kiibo smiles.

“Hello, everyone!” he chirps, “You’ll never believe the news!”

Gonta asks, “They’re letting our families visit?”

Kirumi chimes in, “We get to go home?”

Kiibo’s smile flickers off his face, “W-Well, no. The news is that Ouma-kun is awake!”

Maki, Kaito, Iruma, and Gonta all flinch at once. Saihara bites his lip and looks at his lap.

Kiibo continues, “The doctors are calling it a medical miracle! He wasn’t expected to awaken at all, so this is really wonderful!”

Of course it’s _good._ But Saihara isn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. He doesn’t hate Ouma, far from it, but his stomach is twisting just thinking about him. What can he even say that won’t make the others feel uncomfortable?

He settles for silence, and promises himself that he’ll visit Ouma when he can.

Saihara remains in the cafeteria long after everyone else leaves, and works up the nerve to go speak to Kiibo. When he finally does turn on the tablet, the robot waves at him happily.

“Hi, Kiibo-kun,” Saihara rasps. His voice feels hard and dry.

Kiibo beeps back cheerfully, “Saihara-kun! How are you doing?”

He shrugs. It’s the best answer he can give.

Kiibo responds, “Ah… Well, that’s understandable! Did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

Saihara says carefully, “About Ouma-kun… How is he doing?”

Kiibo’s expression flickers with uncertainty, “He’s… stable. For the time being, at least. As far as the doctors can tell, Ouma-kun is paralyzed from the shoulders down, due to the extreme trauma that his avatar went through.”

Saihara closes his eyes. His chest heaves, and he feels his stomach pulse uncomfortably. He waits a moment, then asks, “Do you know when he’ll be allowed visitors?"

Kiibo replies, “Ah… Ouma-kun has currently requested for no visitors. But if he changes his mind, you'll be the first to know! Is… is there anything you want to say in particular? I could pass on a message for you!”

Saihara thinks hard on this. He has so many things he wants to say to Ouma, but he doesn't know how to make them make sense. Finally, he says, “Tell him… that I'm glad I met him.”

Kiibo nods, “I will!”

Saihara leans back in his seat. It's only two in the afternoon, but he feels like he could sleep for another lifetime.

-

He runs into Kaede in the hallway on the top floor. He waves at her, and she responds in the same manner, her movements a bit stiff. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor, and Saihara moves away, assuming that she doesn’t want to talk.

“S-Saihara-kun? Wait!”

He turns to face her, feeling his heart leap a little in his chest, “Yeah? Is everything okay?”

Kaede squeezes her closed fists, “I… really need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere… private?”

Saihara nods, “Uh, sure. There’s our rooms, we could to go the roof-”

Kaede points to a nearby storage closet, “That’ll do. Please, it’s really important.”

Saihara stares into her soft purple eyes, unsure of what to say. He doesn’t know what she wants, or even what he should do. He hesitates a moment, biting the inside of his lip, unsure of himself. The one thing he knows for certain is that he would trust Kaede Akamatsu with his _life._

He enters the storage closet.

Kaede follows him inside, pushes past him, and pulls a string that illuminates a singular light bulb, just above their heads. Saihara closes the door to the closet, and stares at her silently. He’s about to ask what she wants to talk about, when she suddenly sniffles.

“Akamatsu-san? Are you crying?”

Kaede wipes her eyes and nods slowly, “Yeah. Saihara-kun… we need to talk about the simulation. I’ve been holding things in for what I thought was your sake… but it’s really been for mine.”

Saihara replies gently, “It’s okay… we can talk about it. If it’s about Amami-kun again, I promise you, you weren’t at fault for-”

Kaede shakes her head, “It’s not about Amami-kun. It’s about you.”

“M-Me?” Saihara blinks.

He hadn’t been feeling entirely up to talking about the simulation as it was, but this just makes his heart seize up in his chest cavity. Even after talking to the psychologist about it, the simulation was still something that Saihara tried to avoid thinking of at all costs. He looks at Kaede, who is teary eyed once more, and is avoiding meeting his gaze.

“I feel like I’ve been using you. You care so much about me, and I feel _bad_ because I know I don’t deserve it,” Kaede whispers, hugging her arms to her chest, “I keep putting on this facade to act like the cheerful, _good_ person from the simulation, but I’m not her! I’ll _never_ be her and I hate that. I want to be the person that you loved so much… and I can’t."

Saihara feels his mouth dry up. His jaw hangs open, but no words will come out of his mouth. What does he say to something like that? His heart has beat out of his chest at this point, and is rising up his throat, as if it’ll pour out of his mouth like a waterfall.

He murmurs, “Akamatsu-san… I told you, I like you _better_ because I know-”

She shakes her head, “You don’t know me, Saihara-kun. You don’t know me at all. I’ve been pretending to be the Super High-School Level Pianist just about the entire time since I woke up, because I want to be her more than anything. I’ve been lying to you.”

“Akamatsu-san, I-”

“What’s my favourite colour?” she responds, “Do you know what my favourite song is? Could you even tell me when my birthday is?”

Saihara knows that the answers to these questions are purple, Mozart’s Piano Concerto Fifteen, and March twenty-sixth, but he finds himself unable to say anything. And, as he realizes after the thought passes, that information all comes from the simulation.

He bites his tongue.

“I don’t know if this should continue this… this ‘us.’ I’ve tried really hard because I really do care about you, but something about it all feels wrong,” Kaede continues, her voice gravelly, “I like you much better now that I know the real you, but… I think that part of it comes from me liking you in the simulation. And the simulation… it wasn’t real.”

Quietly, so quiet that Kaede doesn’t hear him, Saihara says, “It felt real to me."

Kaede says, “I’m sorry. Thank you for listening to me. I’m… going to go now.” With that, she pushes past him, leaving Saihara alone in the closet.

If this had been a movie, or hell, the _simulation,_ Saihara would have reached out and grabbed her hand, and he would have _begged_ her to stay. But he knows that this isn’t a movie. It’s not even a game anymore.

He doesn’t realize that he’s begun to cry until the tears roll down his cheek and onto his neck.

-

For whatever reason, Saihara was woken up by a Team _Dangan Ronpa_ employee at exactly seven in the morning, then dragged into a lobby that he hadn’t been allowed inside before.

Everyone else is there too, even Shinguuji - who has kept to himself ever since his release - and Ouma - who still hasn’t been discharged, on account of the fact that he can scarcely move.

Kaede is there. Saihara averts his eyes at the sight of her, not wanting her to see him staring.

Nobody is really doing or saying anything, so Saihara crosses the room, and sits down next to Ouma, who’s been seated in a wheelchair similar to Angie’s. Neither of them do anything for a moment, before Saihara murmurs, “Hi.”

Ouma coughs, “H-Hi, Saihara-chan. I got your message… thank you. I haven’t really been feeling well enough to see anyone.”

“It’s okay,” Saihara responds, “Are you doing any better?”

He laughs bitterly, “I wish. No… I still feel awful. But I do feel a little bit better than before, knowing that you care.”

Care is a strong word, but Saihara doesn’t say that aloud. What he does is say, “You’re welcome. What do you suppose they’ve gathered us here for?”

“I have no idea,” Ouma replies.

They sit there a while longer as tension builds in the room, when one of the team members approaches a heavily barred door and enters something into a panel. The door clicks and slides open, revealing a sea of people on the other side.

Chaos ensues. Saihara tries to move from where he’s positioned himself, but he finds himself glued to his spot as two little kids and an old woman race up to Hoshi and catch him in a hug. More and more people come in - Gonta is swept off his feet by a man even bigger than he is, Iruma is being held by a crying boy with the same hair as her, Himiko is sobbing at the sight of a tall woman holding a cat, Amami looks like he’s going to be crushed by the girls embracing him, and Shinguuji awkwardly shakes hands with a woman who looks like she’s a little bit dead inside - but Saihara keeps glancing through the crowd.

“S-Shuuichi!” a familiar voice calls out, and Saihara instantly bursts into tears as he hugs his uncle, feeling like he’ll never let go, not ever.

Of course, he does. He’s still crying when he lets go, but Saihara thinks that it’s the first time that he’s cried tears of happiness, rather than despair. It’s been about a year, but it feels like forever since he’s seen his uncle.

He doesn’t have any idea what to say, but he’s smiling, smiling so hard that his face hurts, and somehow, that makes everything feel okay.

“Um… Excuse me? Can anyone help me?”

Saihara turns towards the door to see a bespectacled middle aged woman with long brown hair. She’s nervously clutching a handbag, and looking around the room.

“I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, “Tsumugi Shirogane. Is… is she here?”

Saihara shudders, and his uncle places a protective hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed that Shirogane was missing, and as much as he’d like to deny it, he knows exactly why too.

“She’s probably in her room. I can take you there.”

Saihara sees Maki walk up to Shirogane’s mother, and he glances around the room again. Kaede is chatting with an older man and a girl who looks just like her, Tenko is being hugged by a lady who must be at least ninety, Kaito is crying while a woman with lavender hair braids gently pats his back, a very old man is ruffling Kirumi’s hair, and Angie is smiling brightly at a crying little girl. Even Ouma has a visitor. A man in a clown suit, no less, but birds of a feather flock together, Saihara supposes.

Maki Harukawa is the only one that nobody has come for.

The black haired girl takes Shirogane’s mother out of the room, and Saihara looks back at his uncle. The man has a few tears running down his face, and Saihara reaches up to wipe his eyes.

His uncle hugs him again, and for as long as the hug lasts, all is right in the world.

-

The last group therapy meeting isn’t even a therapy meeting, but it’s held in the same old meeting room, so it feels like one. The grandfather clock ticks in the corner, the newly planted peace lily is blooming, and a fresh, identical motivational posted has been plastered on top of the faded one.

Tenko settles down on Saihara’s immediate left, despite the lack of space, the second that she spots Shinguuji on the far side of the table. Not everyone has arrived yet, but he’s grateful for Tenko’s presence, because Shirogane is sitting on Gonta’s right again.

Suddenly, Shinguuji gets to his feet, “Um, excuse me, everyone. I know that we’re not all here yet… but I wanted to make a most sincere apology to Chabashira-san and Yonaga-san. I realize that I heartlessly murdered the both of you whilst in the simulation… and I feel awful about it. I was made into a disgusting person. I’m very sorry.”

Angie beams, and leans over the table to wave at him, “Don’t worry about it! Angie forgives you!”

Tenko grips Saihara’s wrist tightly and hisses, “I don’t.”

The door bangs open, and in comes Kaito, wheeling Ouma along. Behind him is Iruma, then the psychologist. Kaito wheels Ouma up next to Angie, then walks around the table and sits between Hoshi and Kaede, while Iruma squeezes in between Maki and Shinguuji.

The psychologist says, “Hello everyone! Please give a warm welcome to Shinguuji-kun and Ouma-kun, as they haven’t been able to attend any sessions yet!”

There’s a few muted claps, but nothing more, until Angie says, “Kokichi! We can be wheelchair buddies!”

She holds up her hand to high five him, but Ouma replies sheepishly, “I can’t move my arms.”

Angie settles for gently patting the side of his face.

The psychologist looks down at her clipboard, “Now… as you all may have noticed, there are two envelopes in front of you.”

Sure enough, there’s two manilla envelopes with his name on the table.

“One of those contains the prize money that you’ve earned for participating on the final season of _Dangan Ronpa._ Harukawa-san, Saihara-kun, and Yumeno-san recieve the most as they won, but you all have received a rather generous amount.”

Saihara feels his face flush a bit, and hopes nobody is staring.

“What about the other one?” Gonta asks.

The psychologist purses her lips, “That… is an offer to officially become a member of Team _Dangan Ronpa.”_

Everyone goes silent, until Iruma voices what Saihara is thinking, “Are you out of your fucking mind? Why the _hell_ would we agree to that shit?”

“It’s a guaranteed job offer,” the psychologist replies, “Survivors of the show become outcasts in the real world. This is a one time offer to join our team, so think on this carefully.”

“Fuck you,” Iruma says, “I’m taking my money and leaving. My brother and I are gonna move to the country, and buy a horse.”

At least she seems to have a concrete plan for what she’s going to do with the rest of her life. Saihara has one idea, but he feels uncomfortable thinking about it.

Most of the others respond with sentiments similar to Iruma’s. However, when Maki speaks, Saihara’s blood runs cold.

“I’ll join the team.”

“Excellent!” the psychologist says, scribbling Maki’s name on her clipboard, “Anyone else?”

Nobody moves besides Maki, who tucks her envelopes away. Saihara wants to protest to her, but then he remembers visiting day, and how she had nobody to meet. He looks at his hands instead of speaking.

The psychologist continues, “Moving on… who has plans for what they’re going to do after they get out? Iruma-san has already… expressed her views. Do any of you know what you’ll be up to?”

Amami raises his hand, “I’m going to be moving in with Kirumi-san. We’ll figure out more once we get an apartment, or something.”

Angie jumps in, “Angie is going to go back to Hawaii with her family! We're all going to have a big reunion!”

Gonta shrugs, “I think I’ll reconnect with some old friends… assuming they still care about me.”

“Tenko will be heading home with her aunt and grandmother,” Tenko says slowly, “After that? Not sure.”

Saihara speaks up next, “I'm going to write a book.”

The psychologist looks at him nervously, “A book?”

“A mystery novel,” Saihara lies, “I've always liked writing stories. Maybe I can actually finish this one.”

She relaxes, “I see! Who else wants to… Ouma-kun?”

Ouma replies, “I have absolutely no idea.”

Shirogane politely raises her hand, “Er, I'm going-”

The psychologist laughs, and Shirogane’s face falls, “I hope you don’t mind if I you skip you, Shirogane-san! I mean, since we all know that you’ll be here with Team _Dangan Ronpa!_ ”

“Y-Yeah,” Shirogane says weakly, looking uncomfortable, “I’ll be here.”

For the first, and probably the _last_ time, Saihara feels sorry for her, and a deep and treacherous part of him wants to know what she planned to say.

“Who else?”

-

Saihara stands in the lobby again, waiting for the employees to release the doors. He’s a bit nervous about leaving, but at the same time, he’s excited. He can’t wait to leave this place for good.

Tenko pouts from beside him, “Tenko still can’t believe that she’s going to be here for an extra few days!”

“Can your aunt really not fly in yet?” Saihara asks.

She shakes her head, “And Tenko’s not allowed to leave on her own… something about Tenko being a ‘risk.’”

Saihara bites his lip, “That’s really too bad. We’ll have to stay in contact though, okay? You’re a good friend, and I want to keep talking to you?”

Tenko smiles, “You’re never getting rid of me.”

They sit for a bit, then Saihara stands up, and walks over to Maki. She’s been awkwardly leaning against a wall the entire time, as if she’s going to be leaving too. She has an official ‘Team _Dangan Ronpa’_ securityclearance tag draped around her neck.

“Hey, Saihara,” she says quietly.

“Hi,” he replies, “Are you really staying, Harukawa-san?”

Maki nods, “What can I say? It was an enticing offer.”

Saihara shrugs, “I just… didn’t really see you as the type to start working for these people.”

“I was awful in the game, Saihara. I want to be better,” Maki replies, “I told you this once before, but I would go through another one of those killing games, and without much persuasion. It’s not like I have anything out there to live for anyways. Nobody is going to miss me. And… maybe I can find something meaningful in this place.”

Saihara almost misses Maki's split second glance towards Shirogane, who is standing off to the side and looking at her feet, but part of him wishes that he had.

He nods silently. Maybe it’s better like this.

Maki adds, “Do something good out there.”

“I… will,” he responds, then drifts away towards the others.

As he gets to the crowd, Hoshi says, “Ey, Saihara. How are you feeling?”

Saihara shrugs. Hoshi is holding a bag, and keeps glancing down at it every couple of seconds. It suddenly moves, and Hoshi zips it open a little bit more. Saihara can just see Yorick’s eyes gleaming.

Hoshi adds, “You’d better stay in touch, okay? You’re one of the only people here that I know really well, and I’d rather not lose contact.”

Saihara replies, “I’ll email you.”

“Good,” Hoshi grins, “Live a good life. Find something out there that’s worth it… I know that’s what I’m after. See you around.”

He waves his hand, leaving Saihara in the midst of the others again. He’s about to look for someone else to talk to, when he feels a tap on his shoulder.

“Are you really going to write a mystery novel?” Kaede asks.

Saihara looks at her for a long moment, “I thought you didn’t want to talk anymore.”

“I do… I just felt bad. I’m sorry,” Kaede mumbles.

Saihara replies, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. And uh… I may have lied. It’s going to be about the game, and the fallout of it.”

Kaede rubs her neck, “Oh! Well… That’s a really good idea. I see why you didn’t want to say that at the meeting, though."

“Y-Yeah…”

Kaede drags her foot on the floor. Saihara finds himself looking away. Why does it have to end like this? ...He doesn’t want it to end like this.

“I’ll visit,” Kaede says, “And we can talk on Skype, or something.”

“Or something,” Saihara says. He can’t tell if she really wants to, or if she’s pitying him. He isn’t entirely sure which option is preferable.

Luckily, the door open before he has to dwell on it much longer. Saihara races out as fast as he can, and blinks a little bit as the hot sun rains down on his face. He can see his uncle standing just outside the gates, leaning against his battered old truck.

He takes a step towards it, when Kaede grabs his hand, and he spins around. She presses a purple envelope into his hands, then says, “Open this if you finish that book. G-Goodbye, Saihara-kun. Thank you for everything.”

He looks into her hesitant eyes, then folds his fingers around the envelope, “I will. Goodbye, Akamatsu-san. I…wish you the best."

Suddenly, she leans forward and hugs him. Then she lets go, biting her lip, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to… Sorry.”

Saihara smiles faintly, “It’s okay. Bye.”

He runs towards his uncle, willing himself not to look back, because he knows he’ll cry if he does. He climbs into his uncle’s truck, and the man gets into the driver’s side, and starts the ignition. As the truck begins driving away, Saihara lets himself looks back at the compound for the last time. He can still see the others, who are little more than brightly coloured dots in a sea of brown dirt.

As gravel crunches underneath the tires, his uncle says, “Hey, Shuuichi. I’m very proud of you.”

Saihara turns the envelope Kaede gave him over in his hand, “Why?”

“You’re still here,” his uncle replies smoothly.

A tear drips onto the envelope.

“Thank you, uncle.”

They don’t speak for the rest of the drive home.


End file.
